


Down From Heaven and Up From Hell

by Quemnopi



Category: Cardiacs (band), Progressive Rock RPF, Punk Rock RPF, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, F/M, First In The Fandom, Magic Made Them Do It, Multi, Rare Fandoms, Rare Pairings, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Threesome - F/F/M, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24502687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quemnopi/pseuds/Quemnopi
Summary: It was 1986, and I was working at the  Humanoid Central Archives, located at an unmarked building in New York City, where all of the existing history and records of the fairfolk were and are quietly kept. I was a sensitive assigned to track down someone who was emitting a slow but steady amount of raw magical energy. I had been able to narrow it down to someone of mixed human-fae-water elemental heritage living in Britain, but I couldn't narrow it down any more than that.My coworker walked away, and I sighed and put my headphones back on. The needle on the Butthole Surfers album I had been listening to went into the lead-out groove, and I set a brand-new record on the turntable, something I had ordered on a whim from overseas. Some band called Cardiacs.I've been trying to write Cardiacs smut for several years now, because their music makes me deliriously happy. And I wanted to play around with the "Tim Smith is in touch with the fantabulous godlike cosmic oom" stuff that my fellow pondies keep rattling on with.Due to Tim Smith's recent death, I doubt I'm ever going to finish this. Actually, I think I will finish this, but after a respectful break and some replotting. I'm going to go cry now.
Relationships: Tim Smith/Sarah Smith/Original Female Character





	1. Chapter 1

"Shouldn't you be looking for the source of that quintessence outflow?"

"I'm taking a break." I looked away from the wall and took off my headphones. Maps and vials of water and dirt covered my desk. It was 1986, and I was working at the Humanoid Central Archives, located at an unmarked building in New York City, where all of the existing history and records of the fairfolk were and are quietly kept. I was a sensitive assigned to track down someone who was emitting a slow but steady amount of raw magical energy. I had been able to narrow it down to someone of mixed human-fae-water elemental heritage living in Britain, but I couldn't narrow it down any more than that.  
My coworker walked away, and I sighed and put my headphones back on. The needle on the Butthole Surfers album I had been listening to went into the lead-out groove, and I set a brand-new record on the turntable, something I had ordered on a whim from overseas. Some band called Cardiacs.

Two weeks later, I walked into my supervisor's office. "I think I have a lead on Outflow 24." I pulled out a picture of the band. "I checked the files. There's four of our kind in this band--two brothers, the wife of the youngest brother, and the keyboard player. I need to meet them in person to find out who it is."

"We'd need to test them close to our facility."

"How about we have them play the Frozen Finger?"

The Frozen Finger was a small HCA-owned club a mile from the offices, used mostly as a tax shelter. They did have a regular clientele that could be trusted not to set fire to the curtains or throw bottles if they didn't like what they heard.

"OK. Take this paper to accounting, and we'll set this up." He paused. "Lydia?"

"Yes?"

"What do they sound like?"

I unzipped my messenger bag and took out my Walkman. I had pulled strings to find copies of almost everything they had put out by that time. I hadn't been able to stand listening to anything else ever since I had put on that copy of Big Ship so long ago. Almost every new fan of theirs has said that they sound like something that they had been waiting their entire life to hear, and as a sensitive I knew why--the music was resonating through several different dimensions and levels of consciousness. At another time in my life, I would have put up mental barriers and not let the energy rush through me, but I didn't, and I was obsessed. 

He put the headphones on and pressed play. He listened for a few minutes, frowning the entire time. "They sound like someone shoving a calliope down the stairs."

"That's another reason why I think one of them is emitting quintessence. I've played them for everyone in the office. Most people have the same reaction you do, but the others...Love or hate, nothing in between."

"It's serious, then. Close it off however you can."

***  
We had the club owner tell them that she was a really big fan, was really rich, and was willing to guarantee them quite a bit of money to have them fly across the pond and play at her little club, please? A week or so later, I was standing in front of the stage, drinking a white wine spritzer and waiting for the opening band to finish playing. I had forged press credentials in my pocket and my HCA ID hidden in a secret compartment of my wallet. I had had to work late, so I had only been able to talk to Bill Drake before the show. No problem--I would talk to the other three afterwards. An hour or so of close contact and discreet questioning, and I would have enough information to know who I needed to bring back to the facility with me. Then, the band took the stage, and I immediately knew who the outflow was coming from.

"I'm here to talk to Tim Smith." We were backstage after the show.

"He's over there." I looked over and saw him with Sarah, surrounded by people. I walked over and tried to get his attention, but failed. Finally, I lit up the HCA tattoo on my hand and pointed it toward him--a risky move, since anyone with a lot of fairfolk blood could see it. But he would know what it meant, even if he had never heard of us or knew anything about his heritage. He and Sarah excused themselves and came over to me.

"I need to talk to you," I said, the tattoo fading to a discreet amber glow. A wave of fangirl giddiness went over me, and I immediately quieted it; I had more important things to do than gush. 

"Come back to the room with us, then."

We had gotten them a room in a small CHA owned hotel close by. It had been an insane asylum in the old days. There were a few friends, band members, and hangers on gathered there. Tim and Sarah shooed them outside, Tim physically shoving the last of them out the door. They went into the bathroom to shower and change, and I sat down on a chair across from the couch and tried to figure out what to do next. Everything I was supposed to do next felt wrong, and something was shifting and changing. They emerged, and sat down on the couch.

"First things first. Do you know that...."

"Yeah, I was sitting on the edge of a daisy, wearing an acorn cap as a hat, when I got an urge to turn my cousin into a newt...."

"Tim, she's serious." Sarah slid closer to Tim, and he put his arm around her. "It was that old woman, right?"

"I was six. I was throwing sticks at her house when she came out and grabbed me. She was yelling about me being possessed and that she was going to drag me to a priest to have an exorcism done."

"That's awful. What happened after that?"

"Nothing. They pulled her off of me right away, and I never saw her again. But I found out later, when I was all grown up, she had done the same thing with some other kids who had turned out to be...like me? Elves? Fairy Folk or whatever?"

"I've known ever since I was seven," Sarah said. "I'd been having a lot of dreams about water and storms, so I asked Mum about it."

"I had been having those kind of dreams, too, but I really didn't connect the dots until I met you and Bill." He lit a cigarette. "I was the last one in my family to find out. They'd all known about it, but they'd never bothered to tell me."

"You'd have told everyone about it," said Sarah.

"I think you're right."

"That wouldn't have been a good thing." I observed him for a bit. I hadn't expected him to be the makeup-smeared twitch creature I had watched on stage, but the softspoken, constantly smiling man I saw before me was a bit of a surprise. I started concentrating, trying to get a sense about the amount and nature of the mystic energy that was coming out of him every second, but I couldn't get much of a read on him. The world became a bit smaller and brighter. I got up from the chair and moved onto the other end of the couch. 

"What do you know about quintessence?" I said. 

"Ice lollies? No...Before we talk about this, could you tell me one thing?"

"Sure." This isn't going to be easy or fast, I thought.

"Why were we brought all the way over here?" I opened my mouth to speak, but he continued. "Is this about the hum?"

I sat up straight with a start. "Tell me more about it."

"There's a hum...not really an audible hum, it's just something that is always there. But when I play music or listen to music or think about music, I don't notice it as much. I think it started when I was about twelve or thirteen."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-five...are you alright?"

"You shouldn't be as, well, normal as you are." I'd never heard of a quintessence outflow lasting for more than six months, much less twelve or thirteen years. He should have been quite insane by now, I thought. Ranting, making faces, screaming...oh, wait. 

"How do you control it? What are your techniques?"

"Sometimes I find myself talking to it. Usually in the middle of the night."

"Usually when I'm trying to get some sleep." Sarah suddenly closed her eyes and breathed in. I could see an outflow in her starting to happen, a slowly trickling stream. I realized that I was emitting quintessence, too. I should have excused myself and gone somewhere to meditate to stop the flow. I should have, but all of a sudden there was nothing else in the world other than this room and the two intriguing people I was talking to. I got up and sat next to them on the couch, and concentrated on Sarah in particular. She had stopped paying attention to either of us, and was staring at the wall with her hands crossed and her legs slightly open. She was trying to quiet the outflow, without much luck. I changed my focus to Tim. He had pulled a throw pillow over his lap. He was watching and feeling our flows mixing with his own permanent one, trying to figure out some way to gain control. He reached out and touched my shoulder.

"You're glowing."

I looked at my arms. I saw, in my inner vision, my body rippling with green light and brown sparkles. Tim was covered with grey storms, dark green oscillations, and sea green eddies. Sarah's skin had a network of white bands floating over a watery blue field.

"What do you see when you look at me?" Tim said. I described it. He looked at his hand. "Same thing. It's not drugs, then. Is this magic?"

"Is this a feedback storm?" Sarah had stopped trying to meditate and had swung her legs over her husband's lap.

"A feedback storm would cover the entire city. There hasn't been one of those for a hundred years or more. This is a feedback swirl. Just sit back and wait. I'll try to manipulate it to make it more manageable."

The room became quiet as Tim and Sarah became absorbed in each other's reality. I leaned up against him--it seemed to be the right thing to do--and closed my eyes, attempting to find the right bit of outflow that I could weave through the rest to make the swirl less intense and more orderly. I felt Sarah hop onto Tim's lap and wrap her legs around him. I found a strand and grabbed a hold--

\--and a wave of raw sexual energy crashed into us. I opened up my eyes. Against everything I was feeling, I said, "Do you want me to leave you two alone for...."

I was met with a kiss from Tim. I locked eyes with Sarah, looking for some signs of disapproval, but she showed nothing but placid loving acceptance. 

"This is something we'd been wanting to try for a while."

"No, we were talking about wanting to fuck all of our friends. But none of them are here right now. Let's all go to bed."

And that's how it started, one of the most memorable nights of my life. Tim was pretty much as energetic and playful as you'd expect. Sarah was a woman of no inhibitions. And you know the strangest thing? Whenever Tim turned his attentions onto me, I could sense the hum. It was like a hum, yes, and also like a beam of light going through every sense and every plane of existence at once. After the frenzy had passed, we laid back and waited to see who would break the silence first. I did.

"This never happens. Feedback loops...."

"Magic is strange and unpredictable. We know that." Sarah sat up and pulled her dress back on. 

"At least this didn't happen in the middle of a monastery." Tim picked his glasses up off of the nightstand and put them on. He reached down between the mattress and the bedframe, picked up my underwear, and handed them to me. I concentrated on him for a bit. He was clearly a bit spooked by the experience but not quite as spooked as someone who was fully human would have been.

Sarah was sitting cross-legged on the bed, across from me. "The HCA also does strange things to people." 

"I really didn't plan this," I said. "Magic doesn't work on the physical plane any more. At least, not in a way that we would be able to control. And if they found out that I had lost control of a loop...I messed up, and I'm going to need to do some damage control soon. And, another thing." I paused to think about what I was going to say next. My outflow had spontaneously dried up, as had Sarah's. We had also all stopped glowing, except for a faint residual glimmer of green from Tim. "Your outflow...the hum. Tim, you've had it for so long that it's just as much a part of you as your skin and bones. It can't be stopped any more."

"Why would I want to stop it?"

"There's no reason to," I said. "But I was sent over here to make you stop it. I'll need to cover it up for you."

He was clearly nervous about this. "Don't worry, you are not the only person I do this for." He relaxed, but just a little bit. I focused on the two of them. Something had clearly changed in their relationship. It wasn't jealousy, of course. The fairfolk had, as a part of our assimilation into human society, learned to instinctively suppress any thoughts of jealousy or vengeance. We had destroyed entire societies in the past because of these, and it was something we could never risk again. Whatever it was, I hoped that it would be something that they would be able to deal with before it became a problem. I got dressed and ready to go.

"No, stay. We're not going to just fuck you and then throw you out into the cold. How about we buy you breakfast in the morning?"

"I'll buy it. I can use my company card. You can buy next time."

Sarah went into the bathroom, with a look back at us. Tim gave me a hug. 

"Why are you doing this?" he whispered. I felt some of his outflow flow into me, and I took a deep breath. 

"I don't know."


	2. Holding These Things In My Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...I can see everything."

I slept an hour or so. I woke up and heard Tim and Sarah talking to each other in the imperceptible to humans fairfolk tongue outside the room. I couldn't hear them very well, so I turned on my empathic ear to listen instead. I could only get a few impressions--he was being stubborn but sympathetic about something, and she was obstinate but was slowly changing her mind. I knew it involved me and what had happened that night, and I hoped that their fairfolk side of their natures would win out over the human. I grabbed a pillow and a couple of thick blankets and moved me and my purse onto the couch, because I had something important to do before they came in. 

The protection spell is one of the few spells we still use that requires any material components, and I got those out: A strip of blotter paper, and a small stoppered crystal bottle, small enough to wear around my neck. The two I already had on had the blood of the people I was protecting in them, but I had something much better to use in this circumstance: the memories of the sex we had had that night, amplified by the energies of the feedback swirl. I buried myself under the blankets, held the paper to my forehead, and started to replay it in my mind. I concentrated on what Tim and I had done: every kiss, lick, stroke, and thrust. I put my hand between my legs; I was already quite wet. I would need an orgasm to seal the memory onto the paper. Suddenly, my elbow poked out from under the blankets, and a small puff of energy escaped.

The conversation outside became quieter and tenderer. I heard them come in, whispering to each other. I heard zippers unzip. The bed creaked. I tried to ignore what was going on outside the blanket; I needed to keep the memories in my mind from getting contaminated. I came with a yelp, louder than I had expected. I was sucking my fingers clean when I felt the blanket being pulled off of me.

Tim and Sarah were standing there, half dressed and disheveled. They had a faint green glow about them that looked like hot air rising from their bodies. They were scowling. 

I showed them the vial, which had the paper already rolled up and sealed into it with the stopper. "I was making this." He reached for the vial, but I pulled it away from his grasp. "The maker has to keep it. Sorry."

"You're HCA. And a stranger." Sarah sat down at the end of the couch, folding her legs and wrapping her arms around them. She was outflowing slower and more diffusely than she had earlier. She was so lovely, I thought. She'd pulled away from me almost every time I'd reached for her the night before. I understood why--I wouldn't have trusted me under the circumstances, either--but I wished I could have played with her much more than I did.

"She's not a stranger. Not anymore. If she was going to dissect our brains or turn us into glue or whatever this HCA does, she would have done it already." Tim knelt down on the floor becide the couch. Dear God, I thought. He may like to go on stage looking like he'd been caught in the middle of an explosion in a makeup factory, but he's so fucking handsome. I stopped myself from reaching for him, and continued. 

"Do you know what we really do nowadays at the HCA? We shuffle papers about what we used to do to people in the old days. And we keep track of the few of you that are left. Nothing else. We try to pretend otherwise, for some reason." Sarah softened a bit, but only a bit. Desire took control of me, and I did something that I wouldn't have thought to do 2 days earlier. I sat up and whispered in her ear.

"Lydia H. K. Thrailkill." Only I actually used my secret name, the one all of us fairfolk are born knowing. One thing you should know about us: We call ourselves fairfolk and fae and elementals as a shorthand term. We're really not elves or fairies or kobolds or any other creatures you may have in whatever culture you grew up in. We don't really show up in your stories at all, and when we do, we're demons. Whatever lore you have made up for your folklore creatures doesn't apply to us, except for the true-name thing. Whoever knows our secret names has power over us, and can do a lot of damage. And I had just told it to someone I had known for less than 24 hours. Sarah's eyes widened, and she hesitated for a minute before telling me her own. I then whispered my real name into Tim's ear, and he whispered his into mine, kissing it immediately afterward. We sat quietly for a little while afterwards. Tim broke the silence.

"I told Bill right when we met, right after he'd played that score I'd scribbled out for him." Sarah stared at him. "What? I knew he was the right one for us. For the band, I mean." He paused, distracted. "The band." "My brother knows, of course, and you, and this beautiful and boiling woman in front of us right now. That's it." He grinned, and I saw some of his dark bratty stage persona emerge from whatever evil corner of his mind he had hidden it in. Sarah changed too. Whatever human hesitations she had were gone. I could feel the world shift again. Tim sat down on the couch, and I layed down over his lap, face up. Sarah swung her legs over onto the couch and pulled my head over her crotch. She looked up at Tim, and they made some sort of silent agreement. He put his hand up my skirt, and Sarah put her arms over me, restraining me. I felt a cold thrilling rush going up my spine, mixed with the warmth I felt as I wriggled and moaned as I got closer to orgasm, and Sarah struggled to hold me still. I started to come, and Tim stopped abruptly. 

"Now, we could keep you this horny for hours. Days. Maybe even weeks. We could fry eggs on your fanny if any of us got hungry." He pushed back a bit of my hair that had gotten into my face. I opened my eyes and looked at them. There were traces of their stage makeup still on them, even after their shower, barely visible under the light coming from the open bathroom and the glow that we were all emitting. They were intently watching me with blank looks on their faces, almost as if they could feel everything I was feeling. 

"I think she's going to burst if you keep that up." Sarah sat me up, letting my arms go in the process, and kissed me. She was starting to turn into the vaguely feral woman she played onstage. Her glow was a deep sea green that shifted and flowed. Her eyes were half-closed.

Tim smiled. "We'll just clean her up off of the ceiling, then." His glow was a deep brown that shaded into midnight blue in the corners and edges. He was breathing heavily. Without meaning to, I felt my emphatic senses opening towards him, and I found myself probing his mind.

"What are you doing?" He froze as I felt myself hitting some kind of clear mental barrier a short way in. One peek in, and I knew. There was something else going on with Tim's outflow leak. I felt his desire fade into fear, and then into anger, and then finally fade completely away. Sarah got up and sat down between us, glaring at me and then looking back at Tim. She put her hand on his shoulder. The glows dissipated into nothingness. We sat staring off into the void for a while. I probed the emphatic atmosphere a bit, just enough to figure out what had happened.

"No peeking under my skirts. You'll get germs in your eyes." Tim turned his head towards me. "How far in can you go? I mean, how much of my mind can you read, anyway?"

All of it, I thought. Now that I had his true name, I could have easily broken through that barrier he had set up somehow and known everything that had happened to him down to what he had had for breakfast exactly 20 years ago. But I didn't want to upset him anymore than I had. "I can't go much farther in. Not without your help." "I think there's something else going with you, and I'd like to find out what it is. Can you stay here in the US a day or two longer? I'd also like to call a Meeting." A Meeting would be among all of the fairfolk in the band and their crew--about six or seven people. "Or just both of you and Jim? I'd also like to talk to Bill." I leaned in closer to them. "You know he's...."

"In love with us."

"That too, but he's also of...particular interest to the HCA. I'd like to protect him in the same way that I'm protecting you."

They looked at each other in an odd way. I decided not to try to figure out what they were thinking. I would find out what it was about soon enough without alarming them any further. 

"Tomorrow morning it is." Sarah put out the light, and we went to bed. I sat up for a minute or two longer, making sure I wasn't leaking any more. I knew I had to continue doing whatever I was doing to these two people and myself, I thought as I allowed Tim's mysterious and inexhaustible outflow to envelop me as I fell asleep. I was in too deep to stop, and stopping would be worse for all of us than continuing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been three months after Tim died, and one month after his funeral. I think it's finally time to continue. Hopefully, I can get onto a more constant schedule for this. And as always, this is written with nothing but love and respect for the band.


End file.
